A Sunday in the Golden Triangle

Location:
Thailand

Golden Triangle, tour, Thailand

By Cheri Lucas

My first bite into a sala, an exotic and tangy fruit, was akin to the first time I did something daring: my first puff on a cigarette, my first time having sex, or — when I lived in Thailand — my first squat over a floor toilet.

The first time I tried a sala was when I visited Chiang Rai in Northern Thailand in 2004. I munched on the fruit as our white, run-down jeep zoomed up the road, past undulating mountains resembling thick batches of broccoli. A dense fog juxtaposed against this lush green backdrop, and the crisp air, creeping through the windows, was a godsend after inhaling excess exhaust while riding tuk-tuks in Bangkok.

I’d joined a tour to the Golden Triangle with a couple on vacation from Nimes. Our guide Fido, a native of Chiang Rai, spoke polished English, and he challenged us with an impressive arsenal of facts. Fido’s knowledge was stunning, built not from formal academic experience but rather anecdotes and facts he’d strung together from conversations with tourists from all over the globe. He’d formed a mental and emotional map of the world from his experiences with “farang,” or foreigners, each day.

As I gazed at the bamboo huts and pineapple stands on the road, the drive reminded me of the Vietnamese countryside, but strangely, I had not yet been to Vietnam. The landscape of Southeast Asia, which I’d experienced only through National Geographic and motion pictures, materialized before my eyes.

Fido recounted the history of opium and the indigenous populations of the Golden Triangle, like those of Doi Tung Mountain, who survived off of this “black gold.” In 1998, Myanmar became the world’s largest opium supplier, and when the Taliban ceased the cultivation of the drug, Myanmar’s answer to this was more, more, and more.

While listening to Fido’s mix of Tracy Chapman and Bob Marley, he explained how “King Mother,” as he referred to the queen, urged the area’s hill tribes to dismantle the drug trade by replacing opium with coffee, tea, and handicrafts as its exports. But the cultivation of opium fields, Fido continued, was still present.

I’d been living in Thailand for several months, teaching at a private school in Chonburi, on the eastern seaboard, but when I listened intently to Fido as he talked, I realized I’d never had such an engaging exchange with a Thai. We were sharing ideas, and I was eager to explore this infamous land — where Laos, Burma, and Thailand were stitched together by the Mekong River — with this man.

On our way to the Burmese border, we stopped at the Monkey Cave of Tham Plaa and fed aggressive primates that swung from trees and climbed on motorcycles in the parking lot, then drove ten kilometers to Tham Luang National Park, home to the seven-kilometer-deep Royal Luang Cave. Just past noon, we arrived in Mae Sai, the bustling town at the border, and I caught my first glimpse of soldiers with machine guns and attempted my first (and unsuccessful) effort at bartering.

After Mae Sai, Fido drove us to the epicenter of the Golden Triangle. We stopped on a hilltop, and when I looked over a cliff, I saw the waters of the wide Mekong River, a rich milk chocolate with a pinch of crimson. Its dull brown shade seemed to underplay what the region signified to the rest of the world. Fido pointed to a spot across the river not far from where we stood. “That’s where a smuggler was executed a couple days ago,” he exclaimed. His looked unmoved. I felt my eyes widen in disbelief.

Soon after, we took a boat to that very spot across the river. When we reached the bank, Fido instructed us to pay twenty Baht — a mere twenty-five cents — to a guard. He handed me a receipt and welcomed me onto the shores of Laos. Again, I practiced my haggling skills on gorgeous opium pipes and ancient scales and weights, and took shots of cobra whiskey with Fido and his Laotian pals. I chewed on water buffalo jerky, which was the only snack they offered to lessen the flavor of liquor from my mouth. While the taste of dried meat and sight of dead floating cobras in bottles made me woozy, spending time with Fido and his friends was the most memorable souvenir of the day.

The entire journey was another first, like my bite into my first sweet and sour sala: pungent, exciting, and different.

Further Information

Travel tips: Compare prices and packages of day tours to the Golden Triangle offered by various guesthouses in Chiang Rai to find the option that's best for you.